


Magic Fingers

by CrimsonScreech



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pulp Fiction Ref, Spoilers for S3, Sterek!Bonding, comfort!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonScreech/pseuds/CrimsonScreech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The screen goes to a man and woman in a cafe, “I don’t know Derek does a firework finale in your mouth sound like a good thing?"<br/>Derek's never been so unsure about inviting Stiles into his personal space then this moment. He glances at the cookie in his hand, wondering what he's gotten himself into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Fingers

Its the only time he’s ever debated letting Stiles into the loft, lingering in front of the door as the sweet chocolate aroma sings like angel to his empty stomach.  
Damn him.  
“You know you want the goodies." Stiles grins, pushing the tub into his stomach.  
Derek scoffs, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and he opens the door, “You’ve got five minutes then you leave."  
“That’s generous of you." Stiles slides right past him, taking the Tupperware to the kitchen, “Got milk?"  
“Fridge. Try not to drink it all."  
Derek follows the boy, arms crossing over his chest. He’s nearly naked, save for his sweats. Stiles is dressed similarly in batman pajama bottoms and a beacon hills hoodie. Maybe he couldn't sleep either.  
Stiles pours two glasses and hops up onto the counter top, eyes drooped and dark.  
“Don’t you have school tomorrow?" Derek asks, popping the top off and steals one of the fresh gooey cookies for himself. Stiles doesn’t even glare.  
“Im taking a personal day." Stiles answers, sipping at his milk. The line of his lips only grows more grim. Scott must have told him. He was so sure Erica had died that Derek wasn’t sure himself. Now, in retrospect, perhaps he had just been in denial.  
“Who’s gonna do the deed?"  
Derek jerks his head. He doesn’t want to understand, “Sorry?"  
“Her parents deserve to bury their daughter." Stiles clarifies solemnly, his honey eyes wet.  
Derek hardens, blood chilling in his veins as his heart stops. He doesn’t want to bury anyone else. He can’t bury anymore family.  
“I’ll ask Peter."  
“Fuck Peter." Stiles bristles, madness twisting his features into something savage. Derek recoil as if punched by his words. His submission seems to tame whatever is rising within the young boy, “Melissa and her were close. You should contact her and she’ll help prepare the body for the Reyes."  
“Is that what you came over for?"  
“I came over because I cant talk to anyone. If you hadn’t noticed Scott’s pretty much my only friend and he’s got Allison shit to deal with so…" Stiles shrugged, “Congrats by the way."  
“For what?" Derek could use some very strong drinks and alot of them. He takes another cookie, waste not want not, and lets it melt on his tongue.  
“Scott said you found your sister." Stiles smiled so genuinely the mood swings sent him for a spin. He looks at Derek so endearingly it feels like there’s a stranger in his kitchen.  
“Thanks.  
“Bet you’re the nice one of your family. I always figured it was just you and Laura and you were just a big baby but you’re just a softy arent you."  
Derek let out a bark of laughter, his insides choking around it. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much, “My sisters were always the head strong ones. I was just the tag along."  
Stiles tosses a crumb at him, “Between the two of us you’re the Jules to my Vincent any time we’re in mortal danger."  
“You lost me." Derek admitted, clueless.  
Stiles gaped, “You’re old enough to get that reference."  
“You wouldn’t know."  
“Redirecting won’t work, grumpy wolf. Come on, I’ve got netflix we can watch on your laptop." Stiles pushes off the counter, taking the container with him.  
“Its been five minutes." Derek groaned but followed along for more cookies.  
“Okay. You make it through this and I’ll bake you a cake."  
“Who says i want your cake?" Derek lied for the sole purpose of being contrite as Stiles booted up the computer.  
Stiles leveled him with a suspicious sneer, “Every time these fingers touch a mixing bowl Betty Crocker cries."  
“Is that supposed to be good thing?"  
The screen goes to a man and woman in a cafe, “I don’t know Derek does a firework finale in your mouth sound like a good thing?"  
Derek's never been so unsure about inviting Stiles into his personal space then this moment. He glances at the cookie in his hand, wondering what he's gotten himself into.


End file.
